‘What should I do?” Whether openly stated or implicit, this is the question a new client usually raises in their first therapy session. People come to see me for many reasons: relationship problems, addiction and mental health difficulties, such as anxiety. Increasingly, I have found that beneath all of these disparate problems lies a common theme: indecision, the sense of feeling stuck, and lack of clarity as to the way forward.
Making decisions is difficult. Anyone who has lain awake contemplating a romantic dilemma, or a sudden financial crisis, knows how hard it can be to choose a course of action. This is understandable, given that in any scenario we must contend with a myriad conflicting thoughts and emotions – painful recollections from the past, hopes for the future, and the expectations of family, friends, and co-workers.
Faced with such complexities, society and culture can often gravitate to a “one size fits all” solution: a shortcut designed to alleviate uncertainties. In modern western culture, there is a pervasive narrative that we should simply “trust our instincts”, often in the service of authenticity, self-compassion or personal empowerment.
On social media, coaches and influencers frequently extoll the value of staying true to one’s feelings, especially when it comes to tricky relationship issues. Challenging someone’s emotional experience is viewed as a cardinal sin. Conspiracy theorists, fuelled by misinformation and distrust of institutions, have become more widespread, promoting scepticism on issues ranging from vaccine safety to vapour trails in the sky. Self-proclaimed cryptocurrency gurus are quick to suggest that in-depth knowledge of finance is passé and that common sense and a healthy tolerance of risk are enough to get you into the 1%.
“Trust your gut”, “be yourself” or “less is more” are aphorisms that contain much truth, while also being prone to catastrophic misinterpretation. After all, what distinguishes instinctual decisions from impulsive ones? And what if your instincts don’t always serve your best interests?
These questions are worth taking seriously. Research consistently shows that some individuals score higher in neuroticism, meaning they experience negative emotions, such as anxiety, more frequently and intensely. Data from adoption studies reveals that this trait has a strong genetic influence (explaining approximately 40 to 60% of the variability in the population).
It’s easy to imagine how heightened sensitivity to threats would be valuable in our ancestral past, where dangers like predation, infection, or exposure to adverse weather events were constant. The question is, in a world which is generally much safer, how helpful is it now? While a healthy level of anxiety could be lifesaving in a dark alley, it isn’t as useful when navigating a crowded supermarket or asking someone on a date. Should people with higher levels of neuroticism simply trust their anxiety, or approach it in a more critical way?
Psychoanalytic thinkers have long encouraged us to be sceptical of our initial conscious responses. Anna Freud introduced the world to the once radical (but now commonly accepted) idea of the “defence mechanism”. This is the notion that our first response to a situation may have had a useful protective function in the past but is now an act of self-sabotage. For example, someone who grew up in an abusive home may have developed the compulsion to withdraw emotionally as a means of coping. While this may have been beneficial at the time, 20 years down the road it may be the very thing holding them back from developing satisfying relationships.
More recent forms of psychotherapy also teach us to be flexible in our responses. Dialectical behaviour therapy (DBT), influenced by Zen Buddhism, is designed to treat patients with severe emotional instability and recurrent self-harm. DBT therapists encourage their patients to examine their emotional response to a situation, carefully consider whether that response is compatible with the facts and, if not, to act in direct opposition to that emotion.
Most people can probably remember times when acting in opposition to their gut feeling was the right thing to do. If we obeyed our instincts unquestioningly, we would never take on challenges like public speaking, trying a new sport, or putting ourselves forward for a promotion – experiences that often lead to growth. Psychological research consistently shows that careful exposure to something anxiety-inducing causes that anxiety to subside.
What these examples illustrate is that our instinctive reactions are simply the brain’s best guess about what to do in a given moment, and the quality of this guess can vary enormously. It is a biological miracle that the human brain can integrate so much information from its environment and produce guiding instincts that we rely on every day, yet those instincts are so easily distorted. Unresolved trauma, limited experience of life or emotional immaturity can all muddy the waters, steering us away from what is best for us.
By engaging in a process of introspection and experimentation, we can improve and hone our intuitions over time, recognising what may be the unhelpful baggage of past experience, and what may be useful additions to an ever-expanding picture of reality. In this way, our gut feelings can become indispensable tools rather than mental noise that leads us astray. In my work with my clients, I have found that following this path can allow a socially anxious person to find friendship or romance, or enable a timid employee to start their own business.
Much as weighing scales require calibration to be accurate, so do our minds. We can achieve this by venturing outside our comfort zones, testing our emotions against reality and sometimes opposing them, and seeking continual feedback. When it comes to life’s many complicated problems, by all means trust your gut – but only after you’ve taught yourself what’s worth trusting.
Dr Alex Curmi is a psychiatrist, psychotherapist in training and presenter of The Thinking Mind podcast.
Further reading
Emotional Agility by Susan David (Penguin, £10.99)
Good Reasons for Bad Feelings by Randolph M Nesse (Penguin, £10.99)
Neurosis and Human Growth by Karen Horney (WW Norton and Co, £15.99)
